Faded Colours
by RiverDoe
Summary: In Harry’s second year of Hogwarts, he stumbles across a strange room with several paintings connected to his past. Oneshot gen.


Summary: In Harry's second year of Hogwarts, he stumbles across a strange room with several paintings connected to his past. One-shot gen.

Disclaimer: Nope, HP and the other characters nicked from the books are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling.

AN- I don't know where this came from, it's just a random short fic about Harry and the common room I've used is the one from the books, instead of the movies.

**Faded Colours**

Harry couldn't sleep. Or rather, sleep refused to come to him.

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning in his large comfortable four poster bed, he sat up and rubbed his eyes with one hand. His sight was blurred and he reached for his glasses sitting on the table by the side of his bed.

One glance at the clock told him he'd only gone to bed an hour ago. He groaned, wandering when he'd ever get used to this strange world that he was now a part of, even if he had known about it for over a year. His friends were all sleeping soundly in their own beds. Neville was snoring in his.

Shaking his head, Harry grabbed his father's cloak, just in case he needed to hide quickly, and headed down into the common room.

The large round room was silent as he carefully closed the door that led up to the boy's dormitories behind him. He froze when he heard the click as the door shut and looked round. There was no one there. He sighed in relief and began making his way over to the fireplace.

A scratching sound made him freeze again. Standing on one leg next to a large comfy armchair, Harry looked round again, but didn't see anyone. He almost lost his balance as something brushed past his ankle and stuffed a hand in his mouth to stop himself from crying out.

Once he was sure whatever it had been was gone, he hurried over to the fireplace and sank down into one of the large armchairs. Some of the portraits woke up, gave him strange looks and went back to sleep.

Harry ignored them and curled up in the chair. He watched as the embers from the previous night's fire died into nothingness and his eyelids began to droop when he heard the scratching again. He sat bolt upright in the chair, alert. Was there someone here with him?

He gulped, and cringed when the sound seemed to echo around the room. He looked round but didn't see anything. Yet he was sure he'd heard something, he was sure there was someone there… or something.

Something scuttled across the floor. He caught a glimpse of it through the chairs and tables in the room and then it disappeared again. His heart pounded in his ears. Something was definitely there with him. He reached for his wand, only to find it wasn't there.

The scratching started up again and Harry sank back into the chair. Was something trying to get in? Again, he heard something scuttling around the room, and he looked at the dead embers of the fire.

And saw a pair of eyes looking right back at him.

---

Harry almost yelped when Scabbers ran out of the fire towards the grate, and cursed himself for being so scared of a harmless rat. He sank down into the chair, hands resting on the arms and watched Scabbers groom himself, perched on top of the grate.

Ron had complained of Scabbers going missing again, and Harry reasoned that the rat had simply been trapped in the common room and had crawled behind the fireplace when it had died down. Harry let out a sigh of relief and looked at Scabbers.

The rat was looking at him strangely.

Harry cocked his head to one side. Scabbers mimicked the motion and held up a claw, pointing towards the back of the fireplace. Harry frowned at the rat, he must have been imagining it, and looked away from Scabbers at the room around him.

It seemed so different at night, there was no one else there except for him and Scabbers. There was no Fred and George sparking off their latest inventions, no scratching of quills and chattering as people tried to get their homework done. There was just silence, an empty kind of silence that made Harry feel uncomfortable.

Someone's homework was laid out on the table by the fire. Harry leaned forward to see whose it was and saw Hermione's name written neatly on top of one of the parchments.

He rolled his eyes. Of course, it would be Hermione who would be doing all her homework the day she gets it, and that reminded him that he had a Potions essay due the next day.

He jumped when Scabbers squeaked. He frowned at the rat, wandering what exactly it was doing and watched it jump off the grate and head towards the back of the fireplace. The scratching sound started up again and curiosity drew Harry out of the chair to see what Scabbers was doing.

Carefully, Harry dropped to his knees and crouched in front of the fire. Scabbers was right at the back, scratching at something. Harry couldn't see in the dim light and reached for his wand, only to realise he'd left it upstairs in his room. The rat turned and looked at him, before going back to its scratching.

Slowly, Harry climbed into the fireplace, mindful of the ash and dust scattered over it, and saw that Scabbers was trying to get behind a large stone that was jutting out from the corner at an angle. Curiosity drove him forward and he reached out to touch the stone, beneath his fingertips, he felt some kind of insignia, letters even, but couldn't make them out properly.

Scabbers jumped up onto his hand and ran up Harry's arm to perch on his shoulder. Harry turned to frown at the rat, and in doing so lost his balance. He fell forward, but instead of hitting the wall like he expected, the stone under his hand slid back and he found himself falling down three very small steps and into a room a bit smaller than his own dormitory.

Rubbing his head from where it had hit the floor, he looked up and found himself looking at a portrait of a woman sleeping on the wall. He'd seen her only once before, and that couldn't really be counted because that was in a mirror, and he'd seen pictures of her, but he hadn't known there would be a full portrait of her.

He stood slowly, afraid that all of this was just a dream, and that he would wake at any second. Tentatively, he made his way to the portrait, reached up with a hand and said the only word he could.

"Mum?"

-

"Hey! What do you think you're doing in here?"

Startled, Harry stumbled away from the portrait and the woman in it jerked awake.

Scabbers dropped to the floor and scampered away while Harry looked for the source of the voice. He saw a portrait on the wall a few metres away and squinted at it. The man in it also looked familiar, but Harry couldn't place him. He was tall, pale and thin and was frowning down at him. Harry scrambled backwards and again his head connected with stone. He turned and saw the stone steps he'd fallen down.

The woman looked down at him in the pale light and frowned. "James?"

"No, honey, I'm over here."

Harry turned and looked at the wall behind him. The man in it had the same black hair that Harry had and he was leaning against the side of his frame. The woman glared across at him.

"I know you're over there. It's where you've been for the past ten years," she said.

"I believe that should be twenty, darling." James smirked at her.

The woman glared back and began to slip out of her frame. James was still smirking as she slipped into his.

"Oh you're in for it now, James."

Harry turned and found himself looking up at a man that he didn't recognise. He had long, dark hair as well and was smirking at James. He looked down at Harry and frowned.

"So, mate, how did you get in here?"

"That's a good question, Padfoot, how did you find this room?"

Harry turned again and looked up at a portrait of the thin man.

"Umm, I don't know exactly," Harry mumbled.

"Hey look, is that Wormtail?"

Harry turned at the sound of James' voice and watched as James disappeared out of his frame and reappeared next to the thin boy. The woman looked like she was about to follow but she fixed her gaze at something behind Harry. Harry turned and found himself looking at Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled back.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry cursed inwardly. He was in deep trouble now. Dumbledore had a knowing look on his face.

"Don't worry, Harry. Technically, this room is a part of the common room therefore you're in no trouble at all for being in here."

"How did you know?" Harry asked. "That I was in here."

"One of the house elves told me."

"House elves?"

"Don't worry, Harry. Come, let's get you back to bed, Hogwarts is not safe at the moment. It wouldn't be wise for a student to be going around on their own."

"Yes, headmaster," said Harry. He glanced around at the portraits in the room as Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Goodnight, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus," Dumbledore said as he led Harry up the steps.

"Night!"

"Goodnight, sir!"

"Come back soon!"

"James!"

"What?"

-

Harry climbed out of the fireplace and dusted the ashes off of his clothes. Dumbledore appeared behind him and Harry watched as Dumbledore pulled his wand out and aimed it at the back of the fireplace. To Harry's surprise, Scabbers flew out of the back and straight into Harry's chest. Harry caught the rat and Scabbers struggled to be let down.

"Headmaster?"

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore tapped his wand on the grate and a small fire appeared in fireplace.

"Was that… umm…" Harry searched for the words as the rat struggled in his arms. He set Scabbers down on the floor and watched the rat scamper off into the far corner of the room.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore spoke softly, with a slight smile. "They were your parents, when they were younger and two of their friends. A friend of mine painted those portraits."

"Oh."

"I am sorry, Harry."

"For what?" Harry asked.

All he saw was a flash of blue, and then nothing.

-

Harry woke to find his neck sorely cramped from lying at an odd angle for what felt like some time. Groaning, he sat up and raised a hand up to rub at the sore area. He was lying on one of the couches in the common room, still fully clothed from the night before.

He frowned, trying to think of what he'd been doing the previous night but found he couldn't remember anything except that he hadn't been able to sleep and had come down to the common room. He looked around, at the books lying on the nearest table, and then at the fireplace, where a fire was blazing brightly.

Scabbers was running back and forth in front of the grate. Harry frowned at the rat. There was something familiar in the way that Scabbers was doing that but he couldn't remember what it was.

"Hey Harry!" Ron called from behind him. Harry sat up and turned to look at his friend. "Did you finish that essay for Snape?"

"I think so," said Harry.

"Good, because Hermione won't let me see hers," Ron replied.

"You should've done it yourself, you've had all week," Hermione said, appearing beside Ron.

Harry reached down beside the couch, where his bag was, and reached in to find the essay. He was sure he'd finished it the previous night. Why else would he be sleeping in the common room if not to finish an essay for Snape?

"Here," he said, holding it up for Ron.

"Thanks!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron sat down and began copying from Harry's essay. Harry smiled and looked down at the fireplace. Scabbers was frantically darting back and forth in front of it. Harry frowned, wandering why it looked such a familiar sight, but before he could think on it, Hermione was dragging him off to class.

**End**


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